


Feel Better Now?

by wryandwatchful



Category: Grand Theft Auto V
Genre: Blow Jobs, Come Swallowing, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Face-Fucking, M/M, Masturbation, PWP, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Trikey - Freeform, michael has food poisoning, trevor is a horndog
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-06
Updated: 2015-09-06
Packaged: 2018-04-19 07:52:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,137
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4738505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wryandwatchful/pseuds/wryandwatchful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Fuck..." Michael swore under his breath and shifted on the ratty green couch, searching for the most comfortable position to relieve the sharp pains in his stomach. Trevor returned home from doing <i>God knows what</i> with Ron and Wade, to find his friend splayed out on the couch.<br/>"Th' fuck is wrong with <i>you</i>?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Feel Better Now?

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by a wonderful anon in response to my trikey prompt ask on Tumblr. 
> 
> "Michael gets a tummy ache and Trevor out of the goodness of his heart gives his buddy a handjob to ease the pain."
> 
> It started as a handjob....then my imagination did the thing. ENJOY!

It was a little past noon in Sandy Shores when Michael de Santa's stomach began to growl, drawing him up off the couch and to the fridge for something to eat. He gripped the stained handle and pulled it, basking in the brief gust of cold air in the humid trailer. He didnt know what he was even expecting to find in the meth addict's refrigerator, so he wasn't surprised by what was (and what _wasn't_ ) inside.

"Okay, empty case of beer, half an orange, a carton of soy milk and a jar of...thumbs. Of course..." He sighed. After a few minutes of searching he finally found something at least _half_ appetizing: a cold, leftover Bleeder Burger. He shrugged and grabbed it anyway. 'It's cold, but at least it's food,' he thought as he balled up the wrapper an threw it on the floor, taking a bite. 

\----- 

"Fuck..." Michael swore under his breath and shifted on the ratty green couch, searching for the most comfortable position to relieve the sharp pains in his stomach. Trevor returned home from doing _God knows what_ with Ron and Wade, to find his friend splayed out on the couch.

"Th' fuck is wrong with _you_?" He asked, approaching the older man. He crossed his arms and glared at him. Part of him was concerned for Michael; worrying and wanting to help, but them again, Michael _deserved_ the occasional ailment for being such a snake in the past. He said the last part out loud and strode towards the pathetic mass of lard, shoving his feet off the couch so he could sit. 

"Fuck, Trev! Cut that shit out! My stomachs killing me, man." Michael swore and tried to sit up, but a jolt of pain quickly forced him back down. He closed his eyes and groaned quietly. Trevor rolled his eyes. Why did Michael have to be so dramatic all the goddamn time. 

"Maybe you're pregnant." Trevor jabbed. "You're fat enough...and we _do_ fuck without cond-"

"I'm not fucking pregnant, Trevor. I've got food poisoning! I ate an old Bleeder Burger I found in the fridge that was who the **fuck** knows how old, and now I feel like shit, so I **NEED** you to leave me alone!" 

Trevor sat for a moment, thinking of a way to get the fucker to stop being such a dick...wait.... _dick_. Trevor hummed thoughtfully and slid off the couch to kneel in front of Michael's slightly parted thighs. "No, I don't think that's what you really **NEED** , Mikey-boy." He growled.

Michael opened his eyes slightly and stared at Trevor, recognizing the suggestive tone in his voice and the use of the cheesy pet name. He felt his dick twitch and he smiled, slowly shifting so that his friend had better access. Trevor helped him move and grinned as he ran a hand up Michael's thigh to rub small circles against the fabric covering his steadily hardening dick, elicting a quiet gasp from the older criminal.

"Yeah?" Michael asked, trying to keep his voice steady as Trevor began pulling down his zipper with his teeth. Michael continued, "What is it that I need?" The pain in his stomach had now become a distant feeling, while the feeling in his _groin_ began to take precedence. 

Trevor pulled Michael's jeans down around his ankles and immediately leaned forward, kissing and licking the outline of Michael's dick through his boxers.  
"You need someone to suck that cock of yers," he breathed and hooked his thumbs in the waistband, sliding them off his hips. "Until you forget alllll about it." He purred and gripped the base of Michael's cock, delving his head down to wrap his warm lips around it tightly. 

"Ah fuck," Michael hissed and leaned his head back against the cushions, letting his eyes slip closed again as he let himself relax into the blissful minstrations of Trevor's slurping mouth and rolling tongue. Michael was fully hard now, and every slide of the man lips, every scratch of stubble on his thighs heightened the ecstasy. "Fuck, that's nice." He groaned and brought a hand to the back of Trevor's head and threaded his fingers through the thinning strands. Whenever Trevor would take him all the way in, Michael would tighten his grip and pull hard, drawing deep, erotic, vibrating groans from the man as Michael fucked his mouth, forcing the head of his cock down Trevor's throat. The psychopath's eyes were watering and he was gagging and drooling on Michael's length, in love with the fact that the fat criminal was using him this way, taking what he wanted from him. Trevor started moaning louder and his hand drifted down to massage his aching erection through his sweatpants. He could taste the precum leaking from the head of Michael's dick as it slid against his tongue. 

"Sh-shit, T..." Michael huffed and looked down at Trevor, taking in the sight of him. The criminal looked utterly debauched- lips swollen, hair disheveled- and he could tell by the way his shoulder was flexing that he had a tight grip on his own dick. Michael pulled on Trevor's hair, forcing him to meet his gaze. "I'm gonna cum..." he panted. "And _you're_ gonna cum too, aren't you?" Trevor's eyes fluttered shut for a moment and he nodded, tightening his grip and stroking himself faster. 

Michael's breathing grew ragged and his vision was starting to fade out. "Oh shit, T...Ahh...FUCK!" Michael gripped the back of Trevor's head and started to mercilessly fuck his mouth, spurts of cum coating the psychopath's tongue.

He sucked Michael cock through the last waves of his high, pulling off to swallow and to pull some much-needed air into his lungs. The rush of oxygen shot delicious endorphins through his body and he growled loudly as he neared his release. "Fuck....M-michael. I'm gonna..."

"Do it, Trevor. Fucking cum. Let me see it." And damned if that didn't push him over the edge immediately. He threw his head back and shouted. His mouth hung open as he growled and cursed, furiously working himself through his orgasm. Michael watched in awe as Trevor came, stripes of cum splattering against the criminal's shaking arms and thighs. Trevor panted softly and he squeezed the last drops of cum out of his cock, shuddering contentedly.

The trailer fell silent, save for the sound of them cleaning themselves up. Trevor sat on the couch and threw an arm around Michael's shoulders, pulling him into a laying position with his head cradled in the meth addict's lap. "Feel better?" He asked, running his fingers through Michael's hair. He waited for a sarcastic remark from him, but none came. Actually, _no_ answer came. Trevor looked down and saw that the fat crook had fallen asleep.

Yeah, he feels better.


End file.
